


Best Seat In The House

by OniGil



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Come Inflation, Double Penetration, Fingering, Like seriously lots, M/M, Multi, Public Sex, lots of fluids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:24:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2322080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OniGil/pseuds/OniGil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Axe gets bored during a meeting of the Circle. Fortunately, he's got a nice lapwarmer to pass the time. Utterly PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Seat In The House

**Author's Note:**

> When you've got writer's block on Wayward Light, what do? Apparently, write random PWP, come up with an unoriginal title and pow!

            Of course the Circle’s council chamber was designed with enough room for everyone, but even as Wing tries to take his seat, Axe reaches out to pull him into the bigger mech’s lap. Wing squeaks in surprise, half-falling onto him.

            “Saved you a spot,” Axe says. Wing’s faceplates heat up as people around them chuckle. They’re all familiar with Axe’s… preferences.

            Axe presses his mouth to Wing’s cheek. “You uncomfortable?” he asks quietly. “Say the word.”

            Wing’s plating heats up even more as Axe’s energy field flirts with his, cluing him into his teacher’s intentions. He shifts, but stays where he is. Possibly Axe just wants to tease this time. Maybe.

           Axe meets Dai Atlas’s disapproving glare with a cheerful smile, wrapping both arms around the squirming Wing. “Are we going to be here all day?”

            Dai Atlas sighs, gives him one last stern look, and turns to address the Circle at large. Most of them are paying attention, but many keep glancing over at Axe, whose full attention is apparently focused on their leader. Wing settles down, although his frame is still warm with embarrassment. And for a while, he even starts to relax.

            But it’s just a few minutes before Axe starts getting bored. Wing’s audial fins flick and he bites down a gasp as Axe’s hand slides between his legs, large black fingers rubbing the seams of his panel. Wing squirms, elbowing the larger mech, not that it’ll make much of a difference if Axe is determined. Dai Atlas shoots a stern look their way again and Wing flushes hotter. Axe just settles his chin insolently on Wing’s shoulder, on top of one of the flattened fins, and smiles.

            Frag Axe’s exhibition kink! Wing can’t wriggle away without attracting even more attention, and ooh, Axe’s hand does feel nice there…

            He gasps as his interface panel opens with the tiniest click. Axe secures him tighter with a firm arm around his waist before Wing can do anything. Not that he’s bent on escape. But there’s a time and place! His other hand keeps up its tease, rubbing against Wing’s valve cover. Wing tries to hold it back, biting his lower lip, digging his fingers into Axe’s arms, but it’s just a minute or two before the cover spirals open. Axe’s fingers, to his horror, meet lubricant already gathering around the rim of Wing’s valve and spread it around.

            There are more eager glances coming their way. Wing focuses on Dai Atlas. He’s saying something, what was that? But Axe’s fingers have found his external node now. Axe’s other little kink. Wing uses every last drop of his self-control not to scrape his fingers up Axe’s arms. He keeps his vents at an acceptable low hum, even though that means his body heat keeps rising.

            Axe teases that same node, his energy field fizzing with heat and desire against Wing’s. Wing swallows his moans, trying not to squirm too obviously, but there are so many eyes on them, on him, drinking in his reactions. He holds in another moan at the thought, and a new wash of lubricant wets his valve, leaking out onto Axe’s hard thigh as Wing grinds subtly down on it.

            Dai Atlas shoots one more glare at Axe. Axe raises his optic ridges and waggles them, as if to say, “when you’re done here, I’ll let you share.” Dai Atlas’s words falter, then he catches himself and plows ahead, faster. Wing lets out the faintest whimper, his head falling back against Axe’s chest, as Axe gives his external node one last fond, teasing rub. It’s hard to conduct himself as a proper knight should when Axe’s first finger dips into his by now dripping valve.

            Wing can’t help it—he opens his legs wider, hips pressing forward to accept the second finger. Half the room is staring openly, enjoying the show. The other half is at least pretending to watch Dai Atlas, but they keep sneaking glances as the writhing jet. Axe revels in the attention, pushing those two fingers deep, spreading them apart to coax Wing’s calipers looser, opening him up to show off how wet he’s gotten.

            Wing finally submits to the pleasure, turning his optics towards the ceiling as he relaxes onto Axe, cycling his calipers wider, inviting more. Axe’s fingers seek out sensory nodes inside him with expert knowledge. Wing pants, trying to gulp in air to support his fans, teetering on the edge of overload. And Axe, damn him, stops there, keeping his fingers inside but not moving them, just spreading Wing wide. Cool air licks the inside of his valve, bringing him slowly down from that peak. He doesn’t want to cheat Dai Atlas, after all.

            “That is all,” Dai Atlas booms finally, and the words are still reverberating around the council chamber walls when he makes a beeline for Axe. Wing moans when he hears the hiss of Axe’s spike pressurizing, sees that barely anyone is leaving. Dai Atlas looms above him.

            “You are impossible,” he rumbles at Axe.

            “I saved you a spot,” Axe says cheerfully. Wing sighs as Dai Atlas’s broad finger curls into him beside Axe’s, checking that he’s been properly prepared. Wing is ready. He’s so much more than ready. He rocks forward until he has the head of Axe’s spike brushing against the rim of his valve, and sinks down slowly, taking him in a bit at a time. He finally allows himself to moan at full volume, shivering—after all the teasing, this feels _unimaginably_ good. He tosses his head back, moaning again, pleased now to share it with everyone, and rides up and down a few times, eager, chasing that elusive overload. But Axe’s broad hands circle his hips, holding him still, keeping him from what he wants. Wing whines, squirming.

            “Easy, Winglet. We’ll get you there. A knight is patient.”

            Wing gasps as Dai Atlas edges a finger into his valve, already spread wide around Axe’s spike. The bigger mech’s panel clicks aside and Wing shudders hard as Dai Atlas’s spike pressurizes, nudging against his stretched rim. He relaxes his valve, cycling his calipers wide, as Dai Atlas lodges the head there and begins to push gently. Their audience gives a collective, appreciative groan at the noises Wing makes as their leader adds his girth to the stretch. At last both of them are fully seated. Wing rides the edge between pleasure and pain, but their affectionate touches and nuzzles push him towards the former. His lubricant drips to the floor as they begin to move, slowly. He tries to ride them but Axe’s hands steady his hips.

            “Let your elders take care of you,” Dai Atlas says.

            Wing trusts them, trusts them until death, so he settles, letting his body move with their rhythm. It’s _incredible_. They’re hitting every single sensor in his valve, between the two of them. His hands grasp blindly at the armor moving on all sides. He can barely think, can barely talk—he’s just coherent enough to beg, “More… more, please, more!”

            Then even that is lost to him, and his mouth falls open for incoherent moans, his optics flickering with each powerful thrust. It’s too much to bear. He screams out his pleasure, his valve squeezing and rippling as he overloads. The pressure makes his masters groan, thrusting that much more urgently, and Wing moans through a second, minor overload in the echoes of the first, lubricant gushing onto his thighs and down to the floor.

            Axe’s grip around his waist tightens, hard enough to dent, and he gives two more sharp thrusts before excess charge roars through his energy field and dances across Wing’s plating in sparks. All the charge dancing around brings Dai Atlas to overload immediately afterward. Wing arches with a blissful wail as both spikes pour long spurts of hot transfluid into him, stretching his valve lining and shifting his armor outward.

            He goes happily limp in their arms, his fans roaring. When Dai Atlas eases his spike out, followed by Axe, transfluid spills to the ground. Wing has enough presence of mind to close his valve cover before he can make any more of a mess. Better to keep it inside him for a while than to inconvenience someone.

            Dai Atlas takes him from Axe, one arm under his knees and one just below his shoulder turbines. Wing curls into him, purring.

            “You started this,” Dai Atlas tells Axe, accusingly.

            “I don’t hear you complaining,” Axe says.

            “So you clean up the mess.” Wing giggles sleepily at Axe’s indignant squawk. “Wing comes home with me. Since you’re obviously such a bad influence, he needs some… personal training on a knight’s behavior.”


End file.
